


Various kink meme fills

by lornrocks



Category: Fandom: Heroes
Genre: Angst, Friendship, Hurt/Comfort, Kinkmeme, M/M, Mourning, Past Relationships, Rivalry, Romance, Season 1, Season 3, Slash, Unrequited Love, fills, petlar, prompts, pylar, season 4, some peter whump, spoiler alert i don't like nathan
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-24
Updated: 2013-06-24
Packaged: 2017-12-16 00:29:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,600
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/855712
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lornrocks/pseuds/lornrocks
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Written forever ago on LJ.</p></blockquote>





	Various kink meme fills

**Peter visits Nathan's grave only to find a distraught Sylar.**

On his way home from work, Peter decides to take a detour, a long detour. One train and cab ride later, he's standing in front of the cemetery gates, taking a deep breath. It's been something like a year and a half since Nathan died, and about a year since his body was finally buried. Claire jumped a little while after that, and things have been rocky, to say the least.

But, the world hasn't ended yet, so Peter counts himself lucky. He starts to make his way towards a spot he's been to a few times before. He knows it's stupid, to go there to talk to Nathan, but it makes him feel better, anyway. It's only when he gets within a few hundred feet of his brother's tombstone that he sees someone else is already standing there. This person is tall and lean, with a dark coat billowing around him in the slight breeze.

Somehow Peter knows exactly who it is, like some sort of tugging in his brain, some connection he didn't even know he had. Sylar turns around and looks guilty for a moment, and Peter sighs and walks over, stopping a few feet from the other man. It's only when he gets up close to the other man that he even sees the very faint, shiny trails of tears that are beginning to dry on his cheeks.

"I'm-" Sylar begins, but Peter holds up a hand to shush him.

"-I know."

They stand there, together, in the cold for a long time, just staring down at the cold marble in front of them, and Peter wonders if he should ask how the other man is doing, but he already knows. Despite the regeneration, Sylar looks terrible: His skin is ashen, his eyes are bloodshot, his hair is messy and unkempt, and his clothes look like they could use some mending. Peter uncrosses his arms, not even aware he had moved them in the first place, and turns to the taller man.

"If you need someplace to shower and get some food, you could stop by my place. For a while."

Sylar turns and looks at him, surprised, and for a moment his eyes search Peter's face as if to look for signs of maliciousness but instead all he sees is kindness. He nods.

"That's very kind of you, Peter, thank you."

He kindly looks away while Peter leans down to press a kiss to the grave marker, and then the two of them start to walk down the long path leading to the front gates.

"Thank you for standing with me, Sylar," Peter says, quietly, and when the other man just replies "Gabriel", Peter is confused.

"My name is Gabriel," he repeats, and Peter nods in understanding.

"Thank you, Gabriel."

They walk back towards the main road in silence, but feeling a bit less lonely inside.

 

 

**Peter and Sylar.**

**Sometimes after the Wall, Peter asks Sylar about saving him at Pinehurst. Sylar confesses that no one ever promised to not leave him before.**

**They make out a little.**

 

 

 

It's snowing.

Peter is sitting on the couch, trying to entertain himself by playing the old guitar he found in the back of his closet. Gabriel is siting at Peter's kitchen table, warming his hands with a cup of coffee and listening as Peter plays a few simple chords, warming up and trying to coerce his muscle memory to kick in.

It's a few minutes later that Gabriel actually realizes that the other man is playing a familiar melody, and when he realizes what it is, he starts to add the words mentally, wondering why his friend is playing such a sad song.

He gets up and stands in the doorway, watching Peter's fingers slide across the neck of the guitar, and when he finishes the song, Gabriel claps politely, just a little pleased when the medic flushes in embarrassment.

"You didn't want to sing along?" Gabriel asks, and Peter shrugs.

"I'm not much of a singer, to be honest."

They leave it at that and Gabriel goes to sit on the other end of the sofa, feeling peaceful as Peter plays some more and the snow continues to fall outside the window in harsh bursts, brought on in one wicked cold front. He's almost asleep when he realizes that Peter has stopped playing, and when he opens his eyes, he sees that the guitar is set down in the arm chair and Peter is curled up, watching him.

"Why did you save me at Pinehearst?"

The question, while seemingly non-sequitor, really isn't. There's been some sort of weird, unspoken tension between the two of them, questions that need to be answered and feelings that need to be confronted. Gabriel pretends to look nonchalant as he lightly shrugs his shoulders and turns sideways so the two of them are facing each other.

"I guess it's because of what you did." Peter raises an eyebrow, so he elaborates. "Well, despite the fact that you were powerless, you tried to stop Mohinder from bashing my head in."

"You could tell?"

"Vaguely, I could hear your voice, telling him to stop. The rest is fuzzy."

Peter looks down, clearly not sure how to respond, so Gabriel continues.

"And then when you came upstairs and said you weren't going to leave me..." He trails off before he even realizes it and that's when he notices the way Peter is looking at him. "No one has ever said that to me before," he finishes, lamely, and Peter's eyes soften.

"Gabriel," he begins, and finds words just aren't enough. He reaches a hand up and gently touches the taller man's cheek. Gabriel leans into the touch and closes his eyes, feeling the warmth and...and _affection_ coming off of Peter in waves.

"I meant what I said," Peter whispers into the space between them, "And I mean it now. I'm not going to leave you, no matter what happens."

The space between them is suddenly incredibly small as they are drawn together, almost subconsciously, and when their lips touch, it was nothing but inevitable.

 

 

 

 

 

**Peter gets really hurt, his friends are worried. He only cares if Sylar's worried, though.**

**Hurt/comfort please.**

 

 

 

Peter is in the alley between the hospital and some other building, talking on the phone to Gabriel about something- he forgot what- in broad daylight when suddenly a large group of men approach him. He doesn't even have time to run before they're upon him, and he thinks maybe one of them has a bat but he's not sure, and he's on the ground and someone just keeps kicking him, and his vision is going fuzzy and fuck, his leg just _hurts_ and he's pretty sure that someone stabbed him and then he can make out the faraway sound of Hesam, yelling "Hey!" and then his attackers are running, and he thinks maybe he can hear some people chasing after them, maybe some of his coworkers, and then Hesam's voice is looming over him as gentle hands start to examine him.

"Peter," the voice says, "Are you okay? Can you hear me?" and Peter just nods weakly, trying to keep conscious through all the pain and he can just hear something like yelling, but it sounds diluted, and it's only when Hesam starts to talk he realizes that the yelling is Gabriel, still on the phone.

"You'd better get over here, man," Hesam is saying, and then he says something else but Peter is already blacked out, the pain too much to bear.

Gabriel makes it to the hospital within record time, and Emma is wringing her hands nervously in the waiting room outside one of the surgery suites so Gabriel goes over to talk to her.

"What happened?" he demands, and she shakes her head.

"I don't know, Hesam said that he and the others went to see if Peter wanted to get some drinks after work, and there were just these men hurting him."

Her brown eyes are wide with fear and Gabriel lunges forward to hug her before either of them fall down from the shock. They stand there, Emma shaking slightly from crying and Gabriel trying to keep it together, until a hand is on his shoulder and then he and Emma are gently made to sit down on some chairs.

Hesam is standing there, holding a coffee in one hand and looking like hell. Gabriel doesn't comment on the blood all over his sleeves and the front of the shirt. He doesn't want to think about it.

"He's in surgery right now for the stab wound, but as far as they can tell he should be okay," he explains, quietly, and he reaches down to squeeze Emma's fingers with his own.

An eternity later surgeon comes out and tries to look encouraging.

"Well he has three broken ribs, a dislocated knee, several contusions and a nasty laceration in his side, but we were able to stitch up the wound and stop the bleeding." He nods his head towards the hallway. "He's stable, but he won't be getting out of here anytime soon."

Hesam pats the man on the back, mumbling "Thanks Thomas," and then the surgeon is gone. It just about kills them, but when they're finally allowed to go into Peter's room, the three of them stand there and just look at their friend.

Peter's skin is pale, too pale, and he's got a black eye and several other nasty looking bruises on his face, and there are cuts on his arms and his leg is wrapped up and propped on some pillows. There are machines and tubes and an IV and so much else hooked to him.

Before he knows it, Gabriel has moved to stand to the side of the bed and has taken Peter's hand in his own, trying to stop the trembling.

"I'm sorry I wasn't there for you," he whispers, and Emma puts her hand on his shoulder, not knowing what he's said but understanding none the less.

Hesam reaches into his pocket and takes out the fallen cell phone, placing it on the bed side table and sighs. He's about to say something when they hear a "Oh, Peter," from the doorway. They turn and look and there's Angela Petrelli, face as pale as her son's. Hesam and Emma politely move out of the way as the woman rushes over and takes Peter's hand in her own.

"My poor baby," she whispers, genuine concern on her face, and for a moment the other three stand perfectly still, not wanting to intrude. Finally, she looks up and asks, "Who did this to him?"

There's silence, because no one knows but Peter, and he's definitely not talking just yet.

"When we went looking for him, there was a large group of men attacking him," Hesam says, and minutely, Angela's free hand squeezes into a fist.

"I should have seen this coming," she says, sadly, and Gabriel wonders how he could ever doubt this woman's love for her son.

They say nothing else, and it's not until way later that night, when Peter opens his eyes, that the small vigil around his bedside begins to feel relief building up inside them. Emma and Angela hug him, planting kisses on his forehead and showering him with endearments, and he smiles sleepily and tries to reassure him that he's okay, and Hesam squeezes his arm and nods.

"I'm...glad you're okay," he mumbles, and Peter reaches up his free hand and squeezes back.

"Thank you for helping me," he replies, and that's that. Once that's out of the way, Emma takes one look around the room and turns to Angela.

"How about we go get you some coffee?" she asks, and catches Hesam's eyes with her own. "All three of us."

It takes a beat but he catches on and they shuffle out of the room, promising to return soon. Once they're gone, Gabriel carefully walks over to Peter from his perch in the corner and smiles a tired smile.

"I was so worried," Peter says, and Gabriel raises an eyebrow.

" _You_ were worried?"

"I...when they started hitting me, I was afraid you would hear and," he swallows, darting his eyes to look down. "Think the worst."

Gabriel tilts his head to the side. Could he mean...?

"Think you were dead? Peter, I...I was worried, you have no idea how scared I was, but I knew you were going to live." He reaches up and gently strokes the other man's cheek, where there was no visible bruise. "You're a fighter."

Peter reaches a hand up to cover Gabriel's and brings it forward so he can plant a kiss in the middle of the other man's palm, curling the fingers closed when he's done.

"Stay here with me tonight," he says, and Gabriel can just feel his heart breaking.

"Of course I will, Peter." He pulls a chair over and resumes his watch, holding Peter's hand securely in his own and not caring when the others return and Angela fixes him with a cold stare. Peter wants him here, and that's what matters.

Later that day they try to kick everyone out of Peter's room, because despite Hesam's protests, rules are still rules and only immediate family can stay the night. Angela smiles quietly to herself, clearly pleased with this turn of events, and Emma sighs with resignation and grabs Hesam's sleeve.

"We can come back later," she says, and the two of them bid Peter goodnight before heading out. Angela takes this opportunity to turn to Gabriel.

"You have to leave," she presses, and Gabriel makes to get up and grab his coat, but Peter squeezes weakly at his hand, and he sits back down. Angela narrows her eyes. "You're not immediate family, you cannot stay."

As if on cue, a nurse comes in to check on Peter and notices the tall man sitting next to the patient's bed.

"It's past visiting hours," she explains, inspecting Peter's IV, and finding no problems, writes something down on the chart. Gabriel tries to get up again but Peter squeezes his hand again.

"Peter," he sighs, and can't help but smile, just a little. Even like this, his friend was still so damned _stubborn_ and it made him feel so much better. He motions towards the nurse with his eyes.

"Mr. Petrelli, you can only have immediate family with you overnight. I'm sorry, but your friend has to go," the nurse, whose name was Debra, gently reminds, and Peter just sits up a little straighter, looks her dead in the eyes, and replies,

"He's my husband. We're married."

For a long, long moment, no one speaks, the three of them clearly shocked by this turn of events. Debra looked confused, Angela looked like she was going to murder someone, and Gabriel himself looked like he was going to pass out any second. Finally, Debra flips through the chart in her hands.

"There's no record of your marital status in your chart," she says, clearly suspicious, and Peter doesn't even flinch.

"The state of New York does not recognize it as a legal marriage. But you do know if you try and kick him out I can sue you for discrimination. You are aware of my family's history with the law, aren't you?"

Gabriel is suddenly _very_ grateful he hasn't gotten on Peter's bad side anytime soon, and wonders if he learned this manipulation thing from Angela (who, by the way, was looking paler by the minute).

Finally Debra stutters an apology and hurries out, and Peter grins triumphantly before laying back against his pillows, clearly exhausted but extremely pleased with himself. Angela is staring at them with a searing gaze.

"Just so you know, Angela, Peter made that whole thing up," Gabriel is quick to dismiss this new information, in case Angela decides now is an excellent time to try and stab Gabriel in the face.

She narrows her eyes, but makes no move to do or say anything, so Gabriel counts it as a victory and watches as emotions continue to flit across her face before settling on extreme tiredness. She gets up, kisses Peter goodnight, and disappears, leaving the two of them alone with the white noise outside.

"I feel bad for Debra," he sighs, taking a sip from a water bottle that he found on the side table, and Peter laughs quietly.

"I know her from nursing school. She's a bitch."

"Did you really just call someone a derogatory name? Someone get me a camera, I have to write this monumental event down-"

"Ha ha, very funny." Peter rolls his eyes but smiles and slides his hand together with Gabriel's again, settling down deeper into the pillow and closing his eyes.

In the silence, Gabriel wonders about who did this to Peter, and why, and what's going to happen now that Peter is hurt. Maybe he could take his healing? And what's he going to do if he can't work? Several more questions cross his mind but he looks down on Peter, now breathing deeply and evenly, and pushes them aside.

They can wait. It all can, just as long as they have this moment, right here, right now. That's all that matters.

 

 

A penitent Claude returns to win the love of Peter but the puppy has already forgotten him. Besides there is Sylar, looking for something more than friendship with the paramedic.

 

 

He's not sure what's compelled him to come back to New York City, looking for someone from long ago. It could be loneliness. It could just be boredom. All the same, there he is, lingering outside the hospital he knows Peter to work at, waiting for him to get off his shift so he can talk to him.

Then, he sees him, hair shorter than the last time he saw him, long black coat blowing behind him in the January wind. He's about to walk forward, say something, when someone else, someone tall, and dark- Younger than him- appears in his line of sight.

Peter's face lights up when he sees this new figure, and in seconds they're embracing, their breath mingling together in the frosty air. Claude doesn't have to look to know what's going to come next. He turns and walks away, shimmering into invisibility as he goes, not caring who sees him disappear.

 

 

 

**Set in 3x25 "A invisible tread"**

**How Peter was able to touch Sylar? Maybe was Sylar the one who made the contact**

 

When the Petrelli brothers come barging into the hotel suite, Sylar cocks one eyebrow and holds his glowing hands aloft. He still can't believe that the two of them have some twisted belief that they can beat him (Maybe Peter could have, once, if his father hadn't ruined everything for him). Nathan, well, what's he going to do? Fly at him? He already learned how to dodge that after Peter slammed him into a wall just a few weeks prior.

But Peter...Sylar takes a split second to look at the younger man, really memorize this sight. Brave, naive, crazy Peter, wearing all black and looking absolutely outraged. It's a good look, Sylar decides, and mentally smiles. He could get used to this.

The two of them leap forward and Sylar slams the door shut to keep Claire from barging in and trying to "help"; While Claire can be extremely fun to mess with, she's more annoying than anything. His reverie is promptly interrupted as the two of them start to get closer, so he pushes forward with his TK until they sway off course, like a strong gust of wind shoved them away.

Nathan makes a lunge for him first, most likely in an effort to distract him from Peter, who was in the process of picking himself up from the now-broken coffee table, and Sylar effortlessly blocks him with another wave of TK. (This was going to be too easy.)

The Senator slams into a wall and knocks over a small table and the vase on top of it, crumbling to the floor, stunned, and that's when Sylar notices that Peter is only a few feet away from him. Peter lunges, using his brother's stolen flight ability to make the distance in the shortest amount of time, and before he can touch the man in front of him, Sylar's hand is reaching out without him even realizing it, and he's grabbing Peter's arm, making it all too easy for the empath to just reach up and grab at his neck and squeeze, and Sylar can feel the tingle of an ability being taken away, but he can't tell what power it is.

For a split second, their eyes meet, and then Nathan is standing up, running towards them, so Sylar shoves Peter away- This time, causing two raw, red lines to appear on each side of Peter's face. Realizing that this was just going to keep going on, Sylar breaks the window and starts to fly out, waiting for the brothers to follow him. They do, predictable as always, and that's when Sylar knows the _real_ fun is going to begin.

(To this day he doesn't know what possessed him to grab Peter first. Maybe it was those eyes, staring at him with such raw emotion, or maybe it was the urge the dominate, or maybe...just maybe...Sylar was tired of the fighting. He may never know.)

**Author's Note:**

> Written forever ago on LJ.


End file.
